


Masks

by Vampiyaa



Series: Who Holidays [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Costumes, Established Relationship, F/M, Hallowe'en, Het, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiyaa/pseuds/Vampiyaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten/Rose established relationship; Part Seven of the Who Holidays series. After the incident with Reinette, Rose is still reeling over the Doctor's inability to keep it in his pants. When the both of them get invited to Keisha's annual costume party, it's only made worse when the Doctor ends up flirting yet again. Rose decides to get revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masks

Masks

Rose was propped up on her rumpled, unmade bed with her back leaning against the headboard, a magazine opened on her lap, although she wasn’t reading it. The shower was on in her en suite and the Doctor was in it, no doubt using up all of her banana-scented body wash and shampoo set, and Rose finally gave up trying to read her magazine to instead frown at the en suite door, watching steam roll from underneath it. Usually she’d be right in there with her alien lover, but it’d been three weeks since her supposed ‘lover’ had swanned off with a dainty French aristocrat and left her and Mickey to die at the hands of clockwork droids hundreds of years in the future. Much to her own distaste, that wasn’t even what she was still upset about— it was more about the fact that he’d announced with pride that he’d just been snogged by Madame de Pompadour, jumped through one of the time windows on a white horse with no way of returning just to save _her_ , only to come back after five and a half hours of Mickey panicking in the console room. He’d snogged her good and proper against the TARDIS, making hope bubble in her chest and causing her to think maybe, just maybe _she_ was still the person he loved and not that French bint… up until, directly after pulling his mouth away, he’d run straight back to the fireplace to bring Reinette aboard, effectively shattering her hope. Rose wasn’t entirely certain whether or not to be relieved when the Doctor came back, Reinette having already died by the time he went to fetch her, but the side of her that loved him couldn’t shout at him as much as she (and Mickey) wanted to.

That didn’t stop her from refusing to speak to him for the first few days, which they spent drifting in the Vortex as he brooded both over Reinette and over Rose’s distance and ‘tinkered’, while Mickey tried to cheer Rose up by grudgingly watching chick flicks with her and taking advantage of the media room’s extensive selection of video games. By the end of the week, the Doctor was sick of sleeping in their bed with her back to him, shrugging off his attempts to cuddle, and he apologised with his head hanging and his eyes locked on his plimsolls. She’d forgiven him — of course she had — and he’d happily gone back to holding her hand, snuggling her in occasionally inappropriate places and going back and forth with playful banter. Still, she wasn’t quite ready to _completely_ forgive him, so it’d been a few weeks since they’d kissed or so much as shagged, despite his pouting and the many, less than subtle morning hard-ons pressed into her bum. 

Rose huffed out a sigh, shutting the magazine and shoving it onto her nightstand. She missed him like hell (and, if she was being completely honest, there were several instances where she’d been close to jumping his bones) but every time she’d been about to shove him against the wall and snog the stuffing out of him, Reinette’s face swam in the forefront of her mind. She started to wonder whether it was just Reinette or if this was going to be a future occurrence the next time they met someone blonde, pretty and cultured. 

She heard the shower switch off, and she scrambled to grab the magazine to look like she was occupied. It was also very useful as something to hide behind, since the Doctor came out with his hair ruffled, clad in nothing but a towel with drops of water clinging to his frame. She pretended to be engrossed in her article and most certainly not thinking about pushing the towel off of him, before her mobile started ringing on her nightstand and she had to put down the magazine for a brief second to pick it up and flick it open. 

“Rose, where are you?” said her mate Keisha’s voice on the other end, before she could say anything.

“Hello to you too, Keisha,” Rose said sarcastically, hiding behind her magazine again when the Doctor sent her a heated look that she pretended not to see.

“Hi Rose,” sighed Keisha.

“HI ROSE!” Shareen’s voice squealed in the background.

“Shareen says hi.”

“I heard,” Rose giggled. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to know if you and your sexy Doctor’re travellin’ anywhere close to London,” Keisha said, and Rose spotted a smug grin pass over the Doctor’s face over the top of her magazine. 

“Depends,” Rose said, rolling her eyes at him. “Why?”

“S’Hallowe’en in a few days and ‘m throwin’ a party at my cousin’s house in the suburbs,” Keisha said happily. “Was wonderin’ if you could make it. An’ your bloke, too,” she added coyly. “Oh, and Micks. Heard he’s travellin’ with you guys now too.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” Rose said happily. “Dunno about the Doctor though—”

“I’m coming!” the Doctor chirped at once.

“— he’s comin’,” Rose added, and Shareen and Keisha laughed. “Micks too, I guess.”

Rose actually had to pull the phone away from her ear when Keisha and Shareen’s twin screams of excitement echoed through the earpiece. “Was that necessary?”

“Sorry,” Keisha whispered, a beam evident in her voice. “Can’t wait to see you again!”

Rose grinned. “Me too. Bye.”

They hung up, and Rose steadfastly avoided looking at him as she hopped off the bed. “Have to pick my costume,” she said with false brightness, slipping her mobile into her back pocket and exiting her bedroom. 

She heard him huff out a forlorn sigh before she shut the door behind her, a pang of guilt in her heart as she started down the corridor towards the wardrobe room. She ran into Mickey halfway there, holding a nearly finished sandwich. “What’s up, babe?” he said with his mouth full.

Rose grinned brightly, linking her arm with his and leading him down the corridor with her. “Shareen and Keisha called. We’re goin’ to a Hallowe’en party, so pick your costume.”

“Yeah?” Mickey grinned happily when she nodded, stuffing the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. “Let’s go, then!” 

*

Rose stood awkwardly by herself in the console room, tugging down the skirt of her costume, hoping it wasn’t too short. Her costume was a maid’s outfit, although it was far too short to be an _actual_ maid’s outfit — why the Doctor had one in the wardrobe room, Rose had no idea, but it invoked several interesting theories — with several white ruffled skirts underneath a black velvet gown and a lace cap that looked more like a doily than a cap, and to spruce things up Rose had also slipped on a pair of fishnet stockings. She’d forsaken the heels the TARDIS had chosen for her, in case they ended up having to run— thankfully the TARDIS had found a pair of black velvet flats that were perfect for running should the need arise.

“This is cool,” Mickey’s voice said happily from the doorway, and Rose looked up to see Mickey beaming like an idiot and wrapped in toilet paper. 

She let out a cacophony of giggles, leaning against the console and ignoring Mickey’s look of annoyance. “You look _ridiculous_!”

“Do not!” he argued.

“Who goes as toilet paper mummies anymore?” she laughed. 

“Six-year-olds and adults with taste,” Mickey grinned.

“When you come back to the TARDIS all soggy, I’m allowed to laugh,” she said.

“Fair enough.”

An odd choking noise that sounded suspiciously like ‘guh’ gurgled in the doorway, and Rose looked up only to flush crimson when she saw the Doctor staring voraciously at her, looking like he very much wanted to rip her fishnets off, among other things. Once she looked past that, she noticed his odd assortment of clothing— a yellow and red question mark jumper, a white hat with a red stripe, a pair of beige pinstriped trousers, an overcoat with too many colours to count and a multicoloured scarf that was probably long enough to stretch around the circumference of the console room. 

Despite the tension between them, she couldn’t help but start laughing at him as well. “What are you supposed to be, a coat rack?”

“No,” the Doctor said, snapping himself out of it and strolling up to her— or he tried to, anyway, since he tripped over his scarf. “I’m me! These are all different things I used to wear in my other regenerations.”

“That scarf?” Mickey grinned.

“That coat,” Rose snorted.

“Yep!” Pointing to each article of clothing, he said, “The trousers are from my first body, the jumper’s from my seventh, the coat’s from my sixth, the scarf’s from my fourth and the hat is from my fifth. Was a cricketer then, you know.”

“S’official— you have the worst fashion sense,” Mickey said.

“Says the bloke wearing toilet paper,” the Doctor sniffed, and Rose snorted again. “Allons-y, Rose Tyler?”

He held out his hand hopefully, and she just had to take it. “Let’s go then.”

The Doctor tossed open the doors gleefully, crisp night air washing over them and making Rose shiver for a moment. He’d parked the TARDIS in the cover of some trees, but with a clear view of Keisha’s cousin’s house, since it was the most lit-up house on the street and music was pounding through the walls. 

“Rose!” said Keisha with excitement, when she opened the door to find them on the porch. 

“ _Unh_ ,” Rose grunted, when her mate flung her arms around her neck. “Hi Keisha.”

“Ooh, who’s ‘at?” Shareen’s voice slurred from over the music, and she stumbled into view, leaning on Keisha’s shoulder as she stared at the Doctor through half-closed eyes. “‘Lo there, sexy. What’re you s’posed to be, a coat rack?”

“Rose said that!” Mickey said gleefully, barking out a laugh.

“Shareen’s drunk already, huh?” Rose noted with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep,” Keisha nodded with an eye roll. “Now get your arses in here, and you’re gonna tell me what you’ve been doin’ on your travels… y’know, besides the obvious,” she added, eyeing the Doctor with a smirk, who turned a brilliant shade of magenta and tugged on his ear. 

“‘Scuse me,” Mickey grinned, spotting one Trisha Delaney chatting with a couple of college students and striding as gracefully as possible with shoes full of sticky toilet paper.

Keisha forced the two of them onto a couch and sat in an adjacent armchair, and for the first couple of hours Rose had fun with the Doctor explaining their adventures in a creatively twisted, modernised version that Keisha could understand— she couldn’t help but beam at him when he took their encounter with Blon in Cardiff and turned it into an elaborate terrorist scheme, about a corrupted politician building a nuclear plant meant to explode once activated. 

By the third hour, the Doctor grew bored and swanned off to look for nibbles, leaving Rose and Keisha alone to catch up. She was in a brilliant mood at the start of the fourth hour, and when Keisha left to hold Shareen’s hair as she threw up in the loo, so Rose hopped off the couch and went in search of the Doctor, feeling more than ready to shove him up against the wall and snog him until he was dragging her back to the TARDIS.

When she rounded the corner, her heart lodged into her throat and her stomach sank. The Doctor was in the kitchen along with four — _four_ — dainty, big-chested and equally _blonde_ co-eds, all of whom were staring at him with eyes round as coins and touching him in some way. He didn’t seem to mind it at all, though— quite the opposite, in fact. He flirted back as incessantly as they were, grinning as though they’d crowned him King of Everything. 

Rose turned on her heels, storming away from the scene with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. God, this was Reinette all over again, except now it was four bloody Reinettes instead of just one. 

“Rose?” Keisha’s confused voice called through the crowd, but she ignored it and stormed out, intent on going back to the TARDIS, having a good cry and not talking to him for the rest of the effing month, no matter how many puppy-dog faces he made.

The TARDIS hummed with concern when she stomped into the console room, wiping her eyes furiously with the back of her hand and smudging mascara all over her face. “S’your stupid pilot again,” she explained, sinking down onto the jump seat and hugging herself. “Why’s he such an _arse_?!”

She hummed again, this time soothingly as Rose dissolved into tears, crying for a good ten minutes before sitting up and sniffling. She’d cried enough during those five and a half hours, and she was done with crying now. The TARDIS let out an encouraging hum, switching the doors around so the first door was the one to her bedroom. Rose lifted herself up off the jump seat and started to slink towards it, intent on flopping onto her bed and locking the Doctor out, but she paused, head perking up when an utterly _brilliant_ idea occurred to her.

“Could you bring the door to the wardrobe room here instead, girl?” Rose asked.

Another hum, this one of affirmation, and Rose bounded forward when she switched the doors from her bedroom door to the one for the wardrobe room. She headed into the throng of clothes, rummaging through the racks in search of something she’d spotted earlier. She made a triumphant noise when she found it— a floaty angel’s costume that Rose had considered donning when she’d been hunting for an outfit but had earlier decided against it. Stripping off her maid’s outfit and her fishnets, she put on the angel’s costume instead and slipped into a pair of high heels since she knew she wouldn’t be running, smirking when she noticed the sparkling blue mask the TARDIS placed on the bench— she had the right idea. Rose fixed her eyeliner in the mirror, tying the mask around her head and pinning up her hair into a different style to hide her dark roots before heading back out of the TARDIS, giving the doorjamb a grateful pat when she hummed encouragingly at her. She used one of the wings to shield herself from the light drizzle that was coming from the sky before heading back into the house.

She strode right past Trisha Delaney, Keisha and Mickey, none of whom so much as glanced at her, to her delight, and made a beeline for the kitchen, intent on dragging him away from the throng of almost-Reinettes if she had to. The kitchen was vacant however, save for two of Keisha’s friends snogging furiously against the dishwasher, and Rose grimaced and turned away only to grin when she spotted his ridiculous hat turning in every direction, a frown evident on his face. He was probably looking for her, but right now she wasn’t Rose— she was the sexy, nameless blonde in the angel costume.

“Hello,” she said softly, making him jump and whirl around.

“Er, hello,” he replied, raking his eyes over her costume.

Before he could say anything else, she added, “What’s your name?”

There wasn’t a single second where his face reflected confusion, making her feel victorious— he didn’t recognise her. Tugging on his scarf and smiling smugly, he said, “I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor who?”

He shrugged. “Just the Doctor.”

“Sexy,” she said in a low voice, and his smugness seemed to increase tenfold. He was probably going to be insufferable about this later, but she didn’t care at the moment. “What’re you s’posed to be, anyway?” Rose added, pointing to his outfit.

“Everyone thinks I’m a coat rack, so I’m just going with that,” the Doctor said, looking a bit put out.

She laughed, differently than she would normally, trying to sound tinkly and sultry. When she stopped, she noticed that he was eyeing the way her cleavage bounced with each giggle, and although in reality she was furious at him (technically he was eyeing someone else’s bosom, after all, since he didn’t know it was her) she smirked and pushed out her chest a bit. “See somethin’ you like?”

“Maybe,” he said vaguely, tugging on his ear and looking up at the ceiling.

“Good.” She leaned close to him, pressing her lips against his ear and reaching down with one hand to rub him through his trousers. “So do I.”

A breathy ‘ooh’ left his mouth, and despite the situation she couldn’t help but feel a little bit triumphant when an obvious shudder rolled through him and she felt him harden underneath her hand. Rose may be pretending to be someone else, but she still knew how to make the Doctor fall apart into pieces by just looking at him. He seized her wrist after a brief second of enjoying her ministrations, darting his eyes around. “Not here. Come with me.”

He led her through the throng of people quickly, stumbling yet again over his scarf as he headed towards a door, and she glared daggers at his back, thinking of the gigantic slapping/yelling match she was going to have with him later and trying to dream up all the best comebacks early. The Doctor’s pace was urgent and hasty as he led her down a flight of steps into what looked like a laundry room. She’d barely registered the click of the lock or the sound of the sonic soundproofing the room before his mouth was on hers with fervour, kissing her so furiously the back of her head hit the door, and against her will she let out a loud moan when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and twined it with hers. His hands wandered, scouting down her back before grabbing her bum and hauling her front against his, so she could fully feel him straining against the seam of his trousers. This had gone far enough— Rose pulled her mouth away from his to announce just who it was he was snogging and call him out on it, but when she opened her mouth to shout his own mouth closed around the arch of her neck and nibbled, and the only noise she made was a strangled moan that he answered with a rut of his hips. 

The Doctor’s hands found the zip in the back of her dress and fumbled with it, pulling it down and slipping a hand inside to touch her naked back, humming at the feeling of warm skin. She lifted her hands up to push him away but found that she was shoving away the scarf and knocking the hat off instead, and tangling her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp the way he liked, and when he made a helpless noise she whimpered at the answering throb between her legs. The hand splayed on her back travelled downward, pushing her dress down into a pool at her feet and inhaling sharply when his hand met her bum.

“You’re not wearin’ any knickers,” he gasped.

She opened her mouth to utter something seductive in response, but he effectively silenced her by grabbing one embarrassingly glistening thigh and hauling it over his hip, encouraging her to do the same with the other one so that his hips and the door were the only things holding her up. The hand on her thigh travelled upward in record time, slipping into her already soaking wet folds and making her kick her head back, a strangled-sounding moan flinging from her throat, all remembrance of her original objective gone from her mind. He pumped two fingers into her for what felt like an eternity and no time at all before sticking his digits into his mouth and sucking off her juices, moaning as the taste of her exploded on his tongue. The expression on his face was _so fucking sexy_ and the throbbing in her centre sped up, making her writhe. 

“In,” she whimpered, tugging on his hair. “Now.”

“Yes,” he breathed out in agreement, unzipping his trousers and freeing his rock hard cock, giving it a few quick pumps with his hand before lining himself up.

They both let out concurrent groans when he sank into her, and he didn’t wait for her to adjust like he usually did but started pounding into her with desperation, letting out the most delicious whining sound with each thrust. Rose cried out against his shoulder, hands clutching at his hair for purchase— God, she’d missed this. Being filled by him, listening to the helpless noises he made, watching him beg and plead with her to _please, please_ just let him come, he just _had_ to come, and making the decision whether or not to make him shatter with her hand, her mouth or her body. It’d been far too long, which ensured, besides the rapid tightening in her womb, that this was not going to last long at all for her. Apparently it was going to be quick for him too, since he sobbed with pleasure into her ear, thrusts already started to get shorter and sloppier, and with a desperate noise he reached down and clumsily rubbed at her clit, making her toes curl as pleasure surged through her. She released his hair so she wouldn’t hurt him, which was redundant since her nails dug into his shoulders at once when he pinched her clit between his thumb and index finger. 

It only took three more thrusts for her to shatter underneath him, wave after wave of pleasure crashing down on her, making her cry out and spasm against the door, and he managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see a bit of it before he came violently, body jerking and mouth open to shout out, “Oh, _Rose_!” as he spilled his icy seed into her.

His knees gave out when the last tremor went through him, causing him to drop down onto the floor and Rose to slide down the door into his lap, her whole body trembling. Shock flooded her systems when she realised what he’d said and she said breathlessly, “You knew it was me?”

Despite being boneless and trembling like a leaf, he managed to frown at her. “Was I not supposed to?”

“No,” she scowled, although a part of her was extremely thankful.

“Though you’d just decided to try role-playing,” he panted, wincing when he slipped out of her. “Besides, Rose, I think I’ve seen your bum enough times to know if it’s yours or not.” She snorted, and he reached behind her head with shaky hands to untie the mask and let it fall to the ground. “And I wouldn’t want it if it wasn’t yours anyway.”

“What, my bum?”

“That, and various other appendages,” he said, eyes flickering down to her still bra-covered breasts. Warm relief bubbled in her stomach and she started to giggle, snuggling her head into his shoulder and humming happily. He made an equally happy noise in the back of his throat, wrapping his arms around her and breathing in her scent. “Does this mean you’ve stopped being mad at me?”

“S’a start, Mister.” She gave his bum a pinch, making him squeak. “Although we’re still gonna have to talk about enjoying it when people flirt with you.”

“Er, do I?” Rose shot him an annoyed look, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he added on a mumble, staring at her bare knee. “I’ll ignore them next time.”

“Good boy.” Rose patted his head, before trying to shimmy her dress out from underneath her. “Now let’s get dressed so that we can leave, ‘cos when we get back I’m shaggin’ you again.”

He beamed like an idiot, and was suddenly very helpful as he aided Rose in donning her dress again, cleaning the evidence of their joining off of her thighs with a flannel from his pocket and putting on his hat and scarf again before unlocking the door. It felt to Rose like everybody knew perfectly well what they’d just done, and as she and the Doctor bypassed people Rose stared hard at her feet and the Doctor tugged at his ear again, face a brilliant shade of pink. By the time they left the house, they stopped thinking about who possibly knew that they’d just shagged in the laundry room and broke out into a jog, both because of the rain and because they were already anticipating a lovely night of sex in the TARDIS. The Doctor had just plopped down on the jump seat and was reaching for Rose’s hips so she could straddle him when the doors opened and Mickey stumbled in, clad from head to toe in soggy toilet paper. Rose jerked away from the Doctor at once, only to properly spot him and start giggling hysterically.

“I give— you were right, Rose,” Mickey said, glaring as the Doctor started to roar with laughter as well. Then he paused. “Wait, weren’t you wearin’ a different outfit, babe?” 

They both stopped laughing abruptly, both of their faces turning brilliant crimson.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Beta: none, cos I thought Hallowe'en was next week and there wasn't any time to send it to anyone ^^'**.  
>  **All my fics can be found on fanfiction.net, teaspoon and tumblr**.  
>  A/N: This fic was prompted almost entirely by natural-blues some months ago, when I was due to plan the Hallowe'en fic and I was drawing a complete blank ^^' Her exact words are lost in the flurry of the internet, but it basically went something like this: "Post GITF, Rose and the Doctor are in an established relationship, and Rose is still pissed off over Reinette. She pretends to be somebody else at a costume party to catch the Doctor in the act of cheating". This fic was ALSO prompted by tdinttwrt when she inputted (and this IS word for word): "costume party/suburbs/wall sex" So big thank yous to the both of them :3 This is the second to last official fic in this series; there'll be one more Christmas one, and then I'm officially marking the series as complete, although in the future I may toss in some more holiday fics if I get an idea for one :p Hope you enjoy!


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